


Three Ways It Didn't Happen (And One Way It Did)

by Who Shot AR (akerwis)



Category: Cal Leandros - Thurman
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-16
Updated: 2009-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akerwis/pseuds/Who%20Shot%20AR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four variations on a momentous occasion, ranging from the ridiculous to the romantic.  Written pre-<i>Deathwish</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Ways It Didn't Happen (And One Way It Did)

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom doesn't contain as much Promise/Niko fic as I'd like it to; this isn't much of an offering, but it's something. Three ways it didn't happen and one way it did (_could_ might be more appropriate), just as the title says.

_How it did not happen:_

NinjaBro112: hey p  
MetByMoonlight: yeah  
NinjaBro112: u wanna get married  
MetByMoonlight: sure  
NinjaBro112: kewl  
NinjaBro112: oh g2g lil bro needs patched up  
MetByMoonlight: k ttyl  
NinjaBro112: ilu  
MetByMoolight: ilu2

\--

_How it did not happen:_

In the middle (well, nearer the beginning, to be precise) of the dinner party, Niko asked everyone's attention for just a few moments. His speech, on bended knee no less, in front of the woman who (he said) breathed beauty and danger just as she took in oxygen, left the older ladies of quality with misty vision, though they didn't understand the full truth of the words. He offered the ring, she took it with a smile, and applause and the glorious weightlessness of a battle won lifted him back into his seat to take in the rest of the soup course.

\--

_How it did not happen:_

_Meet me in Central Park at sunset. Niko._ had read the note, and Promise had done as was asked of her; the "please" was hidden somewhere in his handwriting, and the exact location within the park had established itself between them some time long ago. She sat on a bench, carefully shielded from the falling sun, senses ever at the ready for the presence of others.

She had not expected to see a werewolf loping toward her, nor had she thought to predict its—his, she realized, as he came closer and she saw that it was Flay—neck to be hung with a sign. As the wolf slowed to a halt in front of her, she read, in Niko's hand, _Will you marry me?_ Following behind Flay, at an easier pace, was a young man with a smile that was clear even at this distance. Promise rose as he approached and kissed him hello—and _yes_.

The next few moments were best left to the two people who experienced them. Some time later, after the sun had slipped from view and Flay had made his exit, Promise glanced at Niko.

"How did you convince him to take part in this?" she asked in an undertone, something like laughter hiding in her eyes.

"My methods are best kept unrevealed," was his quiet response, delivered in a deadpan tone as he reached for her hand. Together, they watched the twilight come to the city.

\--

_How it may just have occurred (though neither present will ever say for sure):_

The living room was dark—not truly so, as nothing was ever _dark_ in New York City, but dim enough to count by the city's standards. The ambient light outside blocked out moon and starlight and offered itself in replacement, casting spectral shadows that bore only passing resemblance to the room's furniture. Promise and Niko lay upon her couch, their curled, naked bodies left without illumination thanks to the sofa's high back, whose shadow covered them as completely as a quilt. The thick walls of the apartment kept out most of the city's midnight lullaby, leaving them with only the rhythms of their quickened heartbeats to accompany their thoughts.

Some time passed, and Niko, his hand curving gently around Promise's hip, spoke her name in a reverent half-whisper, neither a question nor quite a statement.

"Yes?" Even in the dark, he could see, or perhaps imagine, some hint of the violet in her eyes as she shifted to look up at him.

He took a moment to reply, his thoughts falling simply, beautifully into place as easily as he slipped into his daily meditation. Everything in his mind was arranged in a clear and plain array, and he spoke with a tone that only Promise ever heard—a voice which betrayed not nakedness but a loving clarity. "I would like to propose something..."


End file.
